the secret about being press at a film festival you never hear about

You get sick. I mean, literally. You’re sitting in stuffy screening rooms with the same people for six, seven, eight hours a day, breathing in all their germs, while at the same time you’re not eating right and surviving mostly on caffeine.

I’ve caught the LFF lurge. My fourth London Film Festival, and this is the first time I’ve caught whatever disgusting bug is inevitably going around. I think that means I’ve finally assimilated to English germs. Or I’ve lost whatever foreign-cultivated immunity I had. Or something.

Anyway, I had intended today to be a full day of writing reviews of the LFF flicks I’ve seen so far. And it has ended up being a day of trying to get over the lurge. My head is so foggy that I can’t concentrate to write anything.